Something Slytherin
by Human Emotions
Summary: This is just for a friend, you honestly don't have to read this at all. Draco/OC


Draco Malfoy was, once again, surrounded by women. It wasn't hard to understand, really. Have you _seen _him? Beside the point.

They were in the Slytherin common room. It was pretty much Draco, fifth year girls, and a few younger girls. There was also a sixth year.

Pansy Parkinson was pretty much on top of him, batting her eyelashes. A fourth year named Patricia was sitting on his left, glaring daggers at the back of Pansy's head. She rolled her eyes every time the pug-faced girl spoke.

"Tell them about Potions today, Drakey!"

"Remember what you said to Potter today, Draco?"

"With you on the time, we will dominate at Quidditch."

The fourth year had had enough.

"Pansy, my god, will you please shut your trap? In all honesty, I would be happy if you never opened your mouth again." Pansy stared at her with horror. "Just saying," she added with a shrug.

"Well, I think-"

"What did I just say?" Patricia hissed. Draco sniggered from beneath Pansy. The fifth year girl stared with horror at him before she stormed out of the room.

"What's your name?" Draco asked curiously.

"Patricia," she said with a softer tone.

"Last name?" he asked. Full of questions.

"Malfoy," she said with a smirk.

"Funny."

"I thought so, too."

"What's your year? You're not in fifth, obviously. I would have noticed by now."

She smirked before replying, "Fourth." Every other girl seemed to look away now that they realized they were invisible.

"Shame," he said vaguely.

* * *

Being different years, Patricia and Draco didn't see much of each other outside of the common room. But when they were in the presence of one another, Draco fired questions at her. Most of the girls in Slytherin were either in awe or denial.

"What's your favorite subject?" _She laughed at this one._

"Favorite band?" _I don't know._

"Where do you live?"_ London. My parents insist on living as Muggles, and it's horrifying. They've both got magic, even. I stay here during the holidays._

These were the typical inquiries of his. She did quite enjoy talking to him, though she didn't let it show.

"Have you got a boyfriend?" he asked her once. "Malfoy, do you ever stop talking?" she said, and that seemed to shut him up for a while. He did, though, bring it up again every once in a while.

* * *

It was Christmastime. It seemed to come upon them very quickly. Not surprisingly, Patricia was one of the only Slytherins still at Hogwarts. There were very few, if any, Muggle-borns in Slytherin, therefore no reason to stay. The other child, however, was none other than Draco Malfoy.

"Really, Malfoy, remind me why you're still here," Patricia suggested one absolutely drab day. They were sitting in the common room, sulking, hating life.

"Why not?"

"You've got a wonderful mansion, for one thing," she muttered.

"Oh, right. Must have slipped my mind. I do think my father _might_ have mentioned it in response, though…"

"So why are you here?"

"Why are you?"

"I've already told you that, Malfoy," she said irritably. "I'd rather rot away in Hogwarts than live as a bloody Muggle."

"Hey, when did you stop calling me Draco?" he asked suddenly.

"When you started acting like a prat."

"That doesn't clarify anything, you know."

"Shut up. Your voice is actually getting annoying."

"Oh, come on. We both know that everyone loves the sound of my voice." He smirked when he said this.

_So fucking full of himself._

"You know what?" she said, raising her voice slightly. "You're right."

"Am I?" he asked, his smirk lingering on his face.

"Yes. We all love it when you talk. The girls get their knickers in a twist every time you walk into a room. Hell, you've got them curling their toes before you've said three words."

He laughed outright. "What's so funny?" the girl demanded, her curly hair bouncing as she turned her head.

"Honestly, I don't care," he said to her.

"Don't care about what?" she asked, her eyes giving away her confusion.

"Those other gir-"

"I've got to go," she said suddenly, standing up. She did not look him in the eye as she strode toward the girls' dormitory.

She was alone, finally. For the most part. Her feline friend, Mario, was curled up into a ball on her chest as she lay back onto her bed. He was purring quite loudly, oblivious to her boy troubles.

_He's such a prat. Why doesn't he just ask me out if he's so interested?_ She thought angrily to herself. _Well, I suppose he might have tried, all those times he asked me if I had a boyfriend._

_But that was in _public_! What if I'd said no? Then where would we be?_

_But I wouldn't have said no. And Pansy Parkinson would have started crying, I bet. Serves her right._

She pushed Mario off of her and rolled onto her stomach. With her face buried into her pillow, she thought she might start crying.

_Cry, really? Slytherins don't cry._

She sat up, managed to even her breathing, and walked back to the common room.

* * *

"Aha! She returns!" Malfoy sneered. She rolled her eyes.

"And I see you were waiting for me, eh?" she noted in reply.

"Er-"

"Don't even. I, um, I just came out here for one thing, Malfoy."

"And that would be?"

"To ask you what you were about to say when I left."

He acted confused at first. "I've got no clue what you're talking about, Patricia."

She glared at him silently. "Okay, fine. Lighten up. I was saying how I don't care about those other girls, y'know. Only you."

Even though she expected him to say that, a blush crept onto her face. "I, um… okay."

"Wait, what?" he said, with wide eyes.

"I said… okay?" she said uncertainly.

"Just… okay?" he asked, looking slightly nervous. "You really just came out here to say _okay?" _He stood up now. "Honestly, any other girl would have dropped down to her knees if I'd just told her that I fancied her."

"So you do fancy me?" Patricia asked as her insides melted.

Malfoy sat back down and buried his face in his hands.

"I honestly cannot tell if that's a yes or a no. If it's a yes, you seem rather unwilling to admit it," she said softly.

"You're a fucking moron," he said, looking up. "And, unfortunately, it's a yes."


End file.
